


silence - deafening;pleasant

by lavender_boy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddles, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Renjun is sad, a touch of fluff, i guess??, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavender_boy/pseuds/lavender_boy
Summary: So there he was, lying in bed with only the sickening silence as company.(or: Renjun is having a bad day and the silence is too loud)





	silence - deafening;pleasant

**Author's Note:**

> hi !! 
> 
> i wrote this earlier today because i was having a bit of a rough day and somehow felt really inspired to write. 
> 
> it's super short but i hope you like it xx

There doesn't have to be noise for silence to be deafening. Silence rang in his ears, it coursed through his veins and filled his chest. It seemed louder and more obnoxious than it would have, had he been standing in front of a loud speaker, ear pressed against it and the volume all the way up.

Silence is deafening.

Renjun rolled over onto his stomach, the covers in his bed tangled uncomfortably around his body, his shirt twisted and pulled up, bunching around his waist. He made no move to fix it. Didn't move at all, actually. He lay in bed and silently listened to the quiet buzzing in his ears.

The curtains were still drawn closed despite it already being past lunchtime, filtering a sliver of muted light into his stuffy room. It must be cloudly outside, he figured, having not seen a ray of yellow sunshine flicker through the curtains all day. Briefly, he hoped for rain, for the sound of droplets pattering against the window and filling the room with even the slightest of noises. Even if the wind just picked up enough for him to hear it, he'd be grateful. But despite his wishes, he doubted either would happen.

So there he was, lying in bed with only the sickening silence as company.

Absentmindedly, he thought he should open the window and let in some fresh air, but his body would not let him. His mind wouldn't let him. The emptiness inside was too overwhelming for him to even accomplish anything further than turning onto his side occasionally.

These were the days Renjun hated. The days where he couldn't, for the life of him, do anything. There was no specific cause for them, they simply happen by themselves. Although, to be fair, it had been a long while since the last one of these days. Nonetheless, he still hated them. He would love nothing more than to play music faintly in the background but had no energy to find his phone that has disappeared in the void of his untidy, twisted blanket. It probably died anyway.

So he simply lay there.

After an eternity, he heared the muffled voices of his neighbours drift through the thin walls of his bedroom. They spoke a foreign language that he didn't understand. Soon enough, though, their voices faded into white noise too, adding to the suffocating silence in his mind.

His body was exhausted, for reasons unknown to Renjun because all he had done for at least twelve hours, was lie in bed. He wanted to fall into a deep sleep, but unfortunately his mind was wide awake. So he stumbled through thoughts, unable to keep one subject circulating his mind for longer than a few minutes before it either shifted to a new thought or nothing at all.

He sighed, turning onto his side and pulled a pillow into his arms that he promptly nuzzled his face into.

The silence is static.

It ate away at him, causing his body to ache in discomfort. He wanted to do something, anything, but he just couldn't. He had tried before already, yet all he accomplished was to sit up, turn and lie diagonally across his bed. It was useless. He felt useless.

He wanted to paint. Wanted his hands to be covered in splatters of blues and reds and yellows, and fill a canvas with his emotions, but he wouldn't know what to paint. Didn't want to paint something abstract because he never seemed to enjoy the process nor like the outcome of the painting - the colours never turned out to work well together, despite however long he spent time on picking out a pallet.

And so, he stayed in bed, face pressed against a pillow and sheets hanging over the edge of his mattress. At some point, it would blow over and he'd be back to normal.

Except, it didn't. After what was surely a few more hours, the unrest in his body and mind had him tossing and turning. Renjun wanted to cry, longed for tears to trickle out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He desperately wanted this feeling to fade away, but his body wouldn't let him. The tears were stuck somewhere in the abyss of silence clouding his mind.

Perhaps that is why he didn't hear the front door of the apartment open and fill the apartment with voices that soon called his name. He only registered that someone was there when the mattress sunk behind him and a body pressed against his back, arms snaking around his waist. He knew who it was, but had no energy to even greet the boy. It was only when said boy pressed a gentle kiss against the nape of his neck that his body kicked in a halfhearted push of energy, permitting him to turn around and burry his face into Jaemin's chest.

"What's wrong, love," Jaemin asked softly, a hand rubbing his back.

Renjun just shook his head, voice lost somewhere in the murky darkness of his mind. But Jaemin understood and did not push for an answer. Instead, he kissed the top of his head and let him lie there, curled up against him.

It didn't take long before the bed dipped again and he felt warmth against his back once more and Jeno's hand carding through his hair.

That's all it took for his eyes to prickle and soon enough there were hot tears steadily streaming down his face and seeping into Jaemin's hoodie. His breathing grew rugged and unsteady, sobs occasionally tearing through the silence.

They didn't ask. Didn't need to because they understood. They always did.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again, he had turned around and instead of having his face pressed against Jaemin's chest, his head was tucked under Jeno's chin. Behind him, Jaemin had draped his arm across both of them. Renjun could feel the warmth of his steady breathing against the back of his neck and the occasional press of his lips against his skin.

Jeno must have noticed that he was awake, because he murmured quietly, "how are you feeling, Junnie?"

Renjun thought for a while. He felt drained and exhausted, but he was warm. He was warm and his mind wasn't buzzing in agonising, obnoxious silence.

"Better," he said eventually.

The younger hummed in response, thumb rubbing circles against his back where his hand lay. "I love you," he whispered.

Renjun snuggled his face into the crook of his neck. "I love you too."

"I love you three," Jaemin mumbled sleepily behind him.

And just like that, a faint smile danced across his lips and the stuffy clouds lifted from his mind.

The silence was pleasant.


End file.
